


Impressions of Souls

by hiddenheadspace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Angels, M/M, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester, Samifer Week 2013, kind of, kind of trueform lucifer, let's rescue luci and kick metatron's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenheadspace/pseuds/hiddenheadspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They spend what feels like years in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impressions of Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Ezekiel upsets me, so he doesn’t exist in this story. Anyway, the world can always have more fic about Sam releasing Lucifer from the Cage.

They spend what feels like years in the dark. And, well, for all Dean knows, it _is_ years. Hell is like that.

The longer they spend there, the more indistinct Sam looks. He suspects, tiredly, that he’s the in the same state—the lines between his body and his soul blurring into a vague outline.

He’d know Sam anywhere, but he’s secretly, silent afraid that one day one of them will slip into invisibility and they will never be able to find each other again.

They wind their way down into Hell eventually. The trip’s not that hard. Hell _wants_ to be found, which is not a happy thought. Dean half-suspects that it especially wants to be found by Sam. There’s nothing about this that is good in any way, really.

Sam speaks at last as they stand at the end of the tunnel they’ve spent so long travelling.

“How the h—” Sam seems to think better of the turn of phrase he was about to use. “How are we supposed to know where we’re going?”

“Down,” Dean suggests. Sam throws him a scathing look. Nice to know that some things never change.

…

They don’t really know what they’re doing, and not talking about the fact that they’re trying to sneak cluelessly through Hell isn’t helping.

Dean wishes Castiel could have come. Dean knows he couldn’t have, though. He’ll be safer on the surface with Kevin, no matter how trapped he feels by spending long periods of time wingless and adrift in the bunker.

There’s nothing safe about Hell, but maybe one could say that there’s less danger in not bringing an angel (fallen or otherwise) with them into the heart of Hell.

“Circles,” Sam mutters. They have no idea where they are.

…

They are caught by and have to kill several demons the day that Sam figures out how to navigate Hell.

Sam nearly gets himself killed by staring off blankly into the distance mid-fight. Dean stabs the last demon with Cas’s angel blade (the only thing left from when he’d been an angel) and glares at Sam.

“What the fuck,” he says to Sam, who is _still_ not listening. “Dude. Sam.”

Sam snaps out of whatever weird zone he’d been in. “Did you…” he starts, and then seems to change his mind because of whatever he sees in Dean’s face. “Never mind.”

Before they’d opened the tunnel to Hell they’d promised each other not to lie or keep secrets. What they were doing was ridiculously risky enough already without adding a layer of mistrust to everything.

Sam caves at Dean’s scowl. “I heard Lucifer.”

“Like…in your head, talking to you, or you just spontaneously heard something he happened to be saying,” Dean says slowly. Panicking won’t help anything. He definitely should not freak out.

Okay, he’s freaking out.

“To me,” Sam says, hunching over. They’d discussed this. Sam had concluded that the Lucifer of his hallucinations wasn’t the same creature they were looking for. Dean could see Sam’s old pain trickling back in, though.

“What did he say?”

“Just.” Sam sucks in a breath. “Just my name. We should keep moving.”

Dean lets it go as Sam brushes past him stiffly. “You’re going the wrong direction.”

“No I’m not,” Sam says. “We passed where we needed to go before.”

Dean wants to ask how he knows that, but doesn’t.

…

They make it deeper into Hell a lot faster now with Sam being able to feel the pull of the Cage on his soul. They kill a hellhound at one point.

The screams all around them are unbearable.

Dean tries not to think too much about how _not_ uncomfortable Hell makes Sam seem.

…

They skirt the seventh circle of Hell as carefully as they can. Dean has never been more fiercely glad that Alastair is dead.

…

They don’t fade away like Dean had worried they might, but their souls bleed through the distorted, dwindling images of their bodies. His own soul has odd fractures and blotches that Sam was polite enough not to comment on, but are likely remnants of his time in Hell. Sam’s soul, on the other hand, is bright and pure with the only flaw being the crushing pressure of the trials. Sometimes, the deeper they get, the closer to the Cage, Dean almost thinks he sees the afterimage of wings on Sam.

He tries, once, to reach out and feel Michael like Sam can sense Lucifer, but fails, probably because he was never a host for him like Sam was.

He suspects that Sam might be talking back to Lucifer. Dean tries to get Sam to ask after Adam, but if Lucifer says anything about their brother, Sam doesn’t report it back.

…

Sam stops abruptly. “There. That’s the entrance.”

Dean frowns at the steep slope that narrows down into another tunnel before turning to his brother. “Before we go. Are you…are you all right? You’ve been quiet.” Sam’s been worryingly quiet, actually, but Dean doesn’t say that.

Sam forces an unconvincing smile.

Dean gives him a _look_.

“Okay, no,” Sam admits. “I’m kind of nervous, I guess. I mean.” He looks at the tunnel that will lead them to the Cage. “Who wouldn’t be?” Sam laughs, a little too loudly in the relatively silence. “I think we’re doing the right thing, though.”

“I hope so,” Dean says, which is probably not the most helpful thing he could’ve said. Sam seems to appreciate it, though.

“I’m nervous about…” He trails off. Dean doesn’t really need him to specify. His worry about meeting Lucifer again has clear for a while.

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean promises quietly. They descend.

…

“I’m here,” Sam whispers to the Cage, almost touching the bars, eyes a little wild and very distant. “I came back for you.”

Dean can hear them too, now.

He clears his throat. Sam jumps back, flustered. “Let’s do this thing.”

Sam’s the one who has to do most of the work. Apparently being the Boy King of Hell actually means something.

…

“Metatron,” Dean says, when Sam looks too overwhelmed to speak coherently. “He forced all the angels to fall to earth. We need your help.”

A glowing mass of light tries to drape itself around Sam, who winces a little. Michael stares at them, turning Adam’s gaze inhuman.

“There was a spell,” Sam says. He doesn’t quite look at Dean as Lucifer presses closer to him. “He cast all the angels to Earth with some of their powers intact. It’s…”

 _Your soul has been damaged_ , Lucifer says.

Sam stops talking again.

 “There were trials,” Sam says at last. “I didn’t complete them.”

…

“I can return to Heaven,” Michael says. Dean shrinks instinctively under his gaze but forces himself to stand taller. “Lucifer may not be able to without assistance.”

“What does that mean?” Sam’s posture speaks of uncertainty.

 _I am blocked from Heaven_.

“I may be able to return us both should he have a vessel separating his Grace from the barrier against him,” Michael suggests.

“Whoa, no,” Dean says sharply. “We didn’t hike all the way through Hell just to have the Devil wearing my brother again.”

“Is he telling the truth?” Sam asks quietly. Dean can’t quite believe Sam’s even considering this idea.

 _Yes_ , Lucifer says. _I wouldn’t have to take control necessarily, but Heaven will try to resist me otherwise._

There is, in retrospect, nothing good about their idea to free the only two fully powered angels left.

…

Sam doesn’t give consent that Dean can hear, but they seem to fold into each other as easy as anything.

Dean can’t quite bring himself to watch Sam twitch and shift minutely under the added pressure in his head.

“Okay,” Sam says (still Sam, he hasn’t disappeared under the weight of the archangel against his soul). “Okay, can we go this now?”

…

Dean thinks that the screaming when they cross into Heaven isn’t entirely his brother. Sam tells him a little bit of what happened later. _Burning_ , Sam would say, looking briefly distant and strange.

…

Sam mopes guiltily around the bunker when they finally get home. Dean gets fed up with it and drags him and Cas out on a hunt, which has the dual effect of getting Sam to look less despondent and appeasing Cas’s cabin fever.

Eventually Dean gives up and throws his better sense to the wind. _I pray to the archangel Lucifer,_ he begins the prayer, not really in the mood for self-preservation in the form of being polite. _If you actually care about my brother, please do something before he drives us all crazy by wafting around like a love-struck teenager._

Hey, nobody said Dean has much patience.

…

Lucifer shows up the next day in a borrowed vessel. Sam tries and fails to not seem happy to see him.

…

Dean has _almost_ recovered from the trauma of walking in on Sam and Lucifer kissing when he interrupts them mid-sex. He tries to retreat to Cas for sympathy, but only gets laughed at instead. Asshole.  


End file.
